Field Research
by randomsomeone
Summary: Reading a smutty book's left Gaara with some questions. Gaara's questions might give Sakura a mental breakdown. GaaSaku, fluffy and completely not serious crack.
1. Field Research

**Field Research**  
About 1400 words, spawned by a challenge from forever ago.  
T for discussions.  
Naruto and associated characters belong to Kishimoto, not me, and I make no money off of this.

* * *

"I need to ask you a question."

"Okay," Sakura said, curious about the uneasy set of Gaara's shoulders.

"It's personal."

Intrigued, she stepped back from her apartment's open doorway and gestured for Gaara to come in. But instead of anything pleasantly uncomfortable, like asking her to go out for dinner or a movie or even just a nice quiet walk, Gaara reached into a pocket and pulled out . . . a very, terribly familiar book. And then he held it out to her. "Does it work like this?"

Her hands raised and she took a step back like he'd pulled out a gigantic slavering reptile. _"What?"_

"This," he repeated patiently. "Does it—"

Sakura backed further away. "No. I don't know. And I don't _want_ to know."

But then again, she should've known this was coming from the second she found all three of them reading the thing a few hours before. It wasn't that Sakura expected any of the guys to be, well, _pure_ in that respect—okay, so maybe she'd expected it of Lee—but finding Naruto, Gaara, _and_ Lee, flipping through a smutty novel in public and in broad daylight? She almost hadn't believed her eyes. Naruto'd grinned almost from ear to ear as he held the book out for all to see. To his left, Lee'd appeared suitably shocked, his eyes huge and mouth open even as he leaned in for a closer look. And to Naruto's right, Gaara'd made a show of leaning back against their bench and facing another direction—but even from her distance she'd seen how he watched the text out of the corner of his eye.

And . . . yeah, Naruto'd been reading it out loud.

This was _so _Naruto's fault.

Gaara waited, unfazed, as she seethed. "You said I could ask you."

"Yeah, but I . . ." Her brain hurt. Already. "Why me?"

"What other girl _could_ I ask?"

She mentally flipped through the options, sighed, and shook her head. Asking Temari'd be terribly awkward, asking someone he didn't know well would be worse, and asking any of the younger kunoichi at Sand . . . No, that wouldn't work out in the _least _bit. Put in that light, she could understand a little better. But she still didn't have to like it. "But . . . Does it _have_ to be me?"

"Yeah."

It didn't look like he'd leave without an answer. And when she didn't budge, he played his trump card. His shoulders slumped a little, the corners of his mouth turning down in a dejected frown and his expression eloquently telling her that she'd just trampled his last hope. Sakura sighed, her own shoulders slumping with defeat. She definitely wanted to know when he'd realized the vulnerable act made her melt.

"Okay," she said, and took the book from his hands. "What part?"

"Any part."

Frowning, she opened the book to a random page. Her nose wrinkled in distaste; then, as she paid a little more attention, her mouth twisted with disbelief. She flipped a few more pages, her brow knitting with a mix of horror and confusion. "This is supposed to be sexy?"

He frowned. "That's what we were afraid of." At her questioning look, he elaborated: "Naruto said it'd be like getting the wrong manual for a power plant mainframe if it wasn't right."

Oh no. So he wanted a how-to manual.

And . . . Oh no. He'd come to her.

"I don't know, I'm not . . . like, an authority on this or anything. But . . ."

"But you'd know how your own body works better than any of us would."

She forced herself to not think about that statement by opening the book to another random page. What she found this time . . . "This . . . This is ludicrous. If you . . . Well, if you—no, not you, but—"

"Why not me?"

Damn it, she wasn't going to fall for that face again. "Not. You." To distract him, she turned their topic back to the open book in her hand. "But things don't work that way. It . . . looks like the basic mechanics are right, but otherwise?" Sakura shook her head. "They're boobs." She poked one of her own for emphasis. "I can manage to do that and not fall on the floor screaming like I'm being tortured—how's it gonna be different if anyone else does it?"

Gaara's gaze stayed on her chest. "Hmf."

It might be time to head him back out the door. "That answers your question, then?"

"I need more . . . field research." He scowled, and his fingers twitched.

It was _definitely_ time to head him back out the door. "The field's that way," she said, and pointed. "Take your dirty book and go."

"But—"

Sakura huffed, having no idea what she'd done to deserve such a large—if attractively wrapped—bundle of trouble. Now as long as he didn't decide that she was the only option for "field research" as well . . . Well, she might not mind _too_ terribly much. "Go. _Now._"

One more considering, plotting look; then he turned around—and called to the listeners outside. "You heard her."

"This doesn't mean she likes you best," Naruto said sulkily as he trudged in, Lee close at his heels.

"I think it does," Gaara replied.

"The hell it does! She wouldn't even let you—"

Naruto had a mute button, she'd discovered. It just took her entire hand and a whole lot of force to activate. As the blond bounced off the nearest wall, she turned to Lee, who at least had the decency to look appropriately terrified. That left one other target for her rage.

Gaara, of course, looked completely unperturbed.

"This does _not_ mean I like you."

"I don't remember asking you to _like_ me."

She sputtered, her fists clenching. "Yeah, you practically asked me to let you cop a feel. Like that'd just happen! You'd have to do a _hell_ of a lot of convincing—"

By the time she realized what she'd said, both conscious guys were staring at her and it was far too late to take the words back.

Gaara finally broke the silence. "I can be convincing."

"But . . . I . . ." She stuttered to a halt.

In the meantime, Gaara scooped Naruto up, checked his breathing, and handed him off to Lee. "I need some more time," he said. "For field research."

"Good luck!" Lee cheered, and gave the redhead a thumbs-up. "Convince her in the name of science, and in the spirit of youth, and with the vitality of your—"

When it didn't look like he'd stop anytime soon, Gaara closed the door on him.

The apartment suddenly seemed far too small. Sakura shifted a few steps to the right. He followed. But maybe, if she faked in one direction and bolted for the window—

No. She wouldn't let him chase her out of her own home. So instead she pointed, gave him her most ferocious glare, and snarled, "Don't. Even. _Think_ about it."

"Okay," he said, and sat down in the closest chair, folding his hands in his lap and watching her with such calm, open interest that her mind went into overdrive. He had to be planning something—or _doing_ something. Would he lunge? Was there sand down her shirt already? Was that a clone in front of her, while the real Gaara snuck up from another direction?

She put her back to the wall and tried to up her glare a notch. "I don't trust you."

"You people always tell me that when I'm trying to be polite."

"You can be as damned polite as you want; it still doesn't mean I'm gonna trust you."

The attentiveness leached away, leaving something colder, silkier. "I don't _have_ to be polite."

"I don't have to put you through the wall," she returned. "But I might."

He smirked.

Well, here went her security deposit.

**ooo**

Lee jerked to attention at the first crash, then darted forward to try to catch the Fifth Kazekage when he came sailing out of Sakura's second-story window. His best efforts met Gaara's sand, and all of the boys ended up half-buried.

"And stay out!" Sakura shouted.

"Make me!" Gaara roared back, and gleefully—sandily—launched himself back into the fray.

Something large and expensive-sounding shattered, and Naruto looked up groggily from Lee's arm. "Who's winning?"

"I don't know." Lee frowned. "Do you think we should help?"

"Which one would we help?"

"I don't know."

From the open window came a high-pitched shriek. Lee chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "Think we should watch?"

Naruto brightened. "Definitely. Maybe we'll learn something."


	2. The Hands On Approach

Crack crack, crackity crack crack.

Happy birthday, Sapir!

* * *

She knew things wouldn't be that easy. So when he cleared the window—okay, the hole where the window'd been—Sakura was ready, catching him by an arm and swinging him back the way he'd come. But he twisted, disrupting her balance, taking out one of her kitchen cabinets with his gourd and entangling her with his limbs so they tumbled together into a sandy heap.

They immediately stilled, his face over hers, their legs locked together and hands carefully loosening from where they'd each grabbed the other's arms. But instead of backing away Gaara seemed to settle closer, leaning on his elbows and watching her face curiously. And like this, she had time to realize that his weight was comfortable instead of heavy, that his body felt surprisingly muscular, and that despite the destruction around them his expression was strangely, openly gentle—

"What kind of convincing do I need to do?" he asked.

"Get off me." It didn't matter what direction her thoughts were running or how much she liked him—some things just _really_ required a much higher level of finesse. "I don't care if you think you're learning something. Get off me."

In a strange show of politeness he rolled to the side; then dropped his gourd, sat back on his haunches, and watched her expectantly. Sakura sat up as well and tried to mentally take stock of things. So she _sort of_ liked him—in the way he _sort of_ seemed ready to do whatever it took to hold her attention. And, well, it wasn't like she'd _wanted_ those dishes. Or to be cleaning sand out of her apartment for the next rest of forever, or to have a wrecked window, or to give Lee and Naruto who-knew-_what_ kind of ideas, or . . . Oh, she'd _murder_ him.

She pointed a finger at his nose. "I _told_ you—"

Gaara focused on her fingertip, then sank his teeth into it. The end of her threat came out a shriek, and she tried to jerk her hand back. He bit down harder.

"Let go!"

He said something incomprehensible around her finger, and she glared, pressing a chakra-charged hand to his chest. "Let go _now."_

Sand wrapped around them both, engulfing her entire arm. Gaara didn't need to explain things—at this distance, if the backlash of her own attack didn't get her then he definitely would.

She sighed. "_Please_ let go."

He grinned—an expression that looked absolutely ridiculous with her finger still clamped between his teeth—and complied. Sakura muttered and raised the freed digit to her face, examining the deep dents he'd left. It wasn't anything that'd leave a lasting mark, at least—but damn it, it stung!

"You _suck,"_ she said sourly, and almost meant it.

Gaara made a sound that was equal parts contrition and mockery, then leaned closer to see as well. He reached for her hand as if to get a better look, she pulled it back in case he felt like chewing on her more—and at the first back-and-forth tug they both knew where this was going, play-struggling together until her pull spilled him into her lap and they resumed rolling across the floor.

She might not be able to beat him—at least not without utterly destroying her apartment—so Sakura figured she'd might as well join him. And pin him, mid-roll. And—

His throat caught her attention, pale and unblemished. Gaara struggled under her weight, twisting his wrist out of her grip but ineffectively trying to lift her with the arc of his spine rather than his hips—then froze as her mouth touched his skin.

—And she'd mark him up a little, too.

She'd make it fast, before he knew what'd happened. Just a quick bite, and . . . Damn it, it didn't help that he tasted nice. Or maybe it helped too much.

His struggles ceased completely, his free hand carefully stroking her hair and his breath going ragged against her cheek, and she was going to feel really guilty really soon if she didn't stop. Sakura let up a little to look at her handiwork, then congratulated herself on the size of the dark red blotch she'd left on his throat. He'd marked marvelously, as if everything she knew about him was a lie and he was really made of some strangely delicate material. Explaining how_ that _one worked would probably take him a while—

—Maybe longer than it'd take for her to talk herself out of her current position . . . which was straddling the Kazekage, after having given him the biggest hickey in the history of Konoha. If she hadn't intended to encourage him, she'd just failed. Epically.

And in the space she'd left between them he moved in, tilting her face towards his and kissing her firmly on the mouth. Then his lips parted, nuzzling insistently against hers, and . . .

Protesting, she decided, would be silliness. And not _nearly_ this . . . this . . . Wow.

His feet pulled in, his hips lifted, and as her back hit the floor again—it seemed he _did_ know how to roll people after all—she remembered why going along with him wasn't the best idea: because he was so unrepentantly, infuriatingly _dominant_ about damned near _everything._

And if he'd stop kissing her for_ just_ a second, she'd give him a piece of her mind.

And—okay, "not encouraging him" probably included "not kissing back." But, she decided, with her hands in his hair and a leg shamelessly twining around him, where was the fun in _that?_

Sakura got her feet under herself and pitched him to the side, following him over and slamming his wrists to the floor. When he tried to continue the roll she dropped forward, hooking her legs through his so he couldn't get proper leverage. Gaara continued to grapple against her, then kissed her deeply, devouringly—then wrenched a hand loose when the kisses proved too much of a distraction for her grip to hold.

"This isn't kicking me out," he said with a toothy, challenging smile, and pried her fingers away from his other wrist.

"I'll still kick you out," she returned. "After I'm done."

Now, to organize her thoughts enough to give him that piece of her mind. But the words fled as she focused on him again: his body solid under hers, his eyes wide and wondering, his arms encircling her gently, guiding her down to where his kissed-pink lips parted for her—

"Wow," Naruto said from somewhere in the vicinity of the doorway. "It _does_ work like the book says."

Sakura jerked upright to find both her teammate _and _Lee staring. Mortified, she mentally scrambled for an explanation—

Lee's head cocked to the side. "We get to try next, right?"

Naruto whooped. "Hell yeah! That's what happens in here too, after that group of tourists walks in—"

Her eyelid started to twitch, and without conscious thought Sakura began to crack her knuckles. But the boys didn't notice.

"Hey—" Lee pointed. "Is that a _mating_ mark?"

She dove at them, they dove backwards in terror, and Gaara crashed into her, truncating her brief flight at their throats and pinning her face-down onto the floor. Undaunted, she snarled wordlessly, splintering floorboards and sending little clouds of sand into the air as she used chakra bursts to claw her way along, inch by bloodthirsty inch.

"Save yourselves," Gaara said mildly. The two immediately turned tail and bolted, slamming the door behind them.

"You," she growled; and the sand wrapped around her loosened enough that she could roll over. She'd knock some sense into him next—if he wasn't that close, maybe. And if he wasn't smiling like that, and if he stopped touching her cheek, and . . .

"_I've_ never scared them that badly," he said, and leaned back down to her.

Okay, she'd get him later. She had plenty of time to find the perfect opening. Sakura closed her eyes for his kiss—and hoped, for sanity's sake, that her terrorizing people was the strangest of his turn-ons.

After only a few more kisses he pulled away. "What was that about a . . . mating mark?"

Her palm connected with her forehead, and she rolled him off of her. "I'd say they grew good sense as they aged," she grumbled as she sat up. "But they obviously haven't." And if Gaara's near-suicidal antics were any indication, he hadn't either. Sakura sighed and looked past him to the gaping hole in her wall, then grimaced and changed the subject. "And you . . . You broke my window."

"You threw me through it."

From far down the street she could barely see Lee and Naruto making distance at top speed. She knew she shouldn't be this thrilled . . . but the farther away they got, the longer it'd take them to come back and interrupt her again.

"It was still you who broke it, so you should help fix it," she said, as if her logic was completely infallible. Gaara's forehead wrinkled with confusion, and Sakura shook her head. "Or should I spell out when I'm giving you a reason to stick around?"

"You could've just asked," he replied, and turned to survey the damage—but not until she'd seen him gauge the distance between them and lick his lips.

This, Sakura decided, was going to be a _long_ afternoon.


	3. Revamped Ideals

Hey guess what, I got married. :P

* * *

After only a few moments of retrospect, Sakura decided this entire adventure had been a terrible idea. She couldn't fix the window with what she had in the house. She couldn't go out with Gaara to pick up the things she needed for the repair without leaving a big wide hole for anyone to clamber through—and she'd be damned if she left Gaara to his own devices there while she was gone.

But if she sent him out alone, she'd have to deal with the little matter of the giant hickey he didn't know he had.

"I only have a short meeting this afternoon," he said, as she glared at the window opening. "I'll get the supplies on my way back."

She could see him leaving the meeting now: _Yes, Hokage, I'm helping Sakura with some repairs. What do you mean, you can tell how she's paying me?_

Next time, she told herself, she'd think before she chomped.

It took monumental mental effort to force the words out. "Before you go . . . You might want . . . to put a genjutsu on your neck."

He blinked at her, his forehead wrinkling—then turned on his heel and marched towards her bathroom. She followed to find him at the mirror, his eyes gone wide with astonishment and . . . glee? "You did that."

"Yeah," she muttered.

He touched the blotch on his throat; then, when it didn't disappear, he poked it. "I didn't know I could get them." And with that he turned and stepped past her. "Kankurou'll be proud of me."

"Kankurou," she repeated blankly.

"Yeah. I think he thought I was holding out for Naruto."

"Na—" Sakura stopped and shook her head—there were some things she _really_ didn't need to consider. Far better to herd him out the door, turn her face up for a goodbye kiss as dutifully as if she'd done it for years—and hope he didn't get into too much trouble on his own.

Him being around and helping clean was okay. Him liking kisses and hickeys and her threatening her fellow Leaf-nin—well, if she thought about it for long enough, that was okay too. Sort of. And if he tried anything stupid she'd boot him into next week.

Which he'd probably enjoy. Either way, it looked like he had a win-win situation. Sakura, though . . . just had a headache.

Whose brilliant idea was it to make out with the full-fledged crazy person, again? Really now.

She sighed and looked at the wreckage still scattered across the floor. After the initial clean-up would come the fun part—the wait.

Hold on—had he gone out with the genjutsu, or not?

**ooo**

"Something's not right with this," Naruto scowled.

"Not right at all," Lee agreed.

"It's perfectly all right for me," Gaara said. He'd tracked the pair to where they were fortifying Naruto's apartment and, after destroying their defenses for the sheer joy of watching them scramble, sat on the cleanest-looking section of Naruto's couch and tried to look knowledgeable. But Naruto wasn't having it.

"How would _you_ know?"

"He _is_ the one with the mating mark," Lee reminded him, which just made the blond scowl harder.

"I wonder if it's something wrong with _her."_

Gaara thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"What? Don't you remember a few minutes ago, when she went after us like she wanted to kill—"

Naruto cut off mid-diatribe. Lee's mouth dropped open into a silent _o._ "So _that's_ it."

Gaara examined his nails—while nonchalantly cocking his head in order to draw attention to his neck.

Naruto was the first to say it. "You're insane. Still."

"Maybe," Gaara replied gloatingly. "But she wants me to come back."

As he walked out the door he heard Naruto whispering, "Man. This isn't good. Both of them . . . Imagine what'd happen if they had kids!"

"I know what'd happen," Lee said solemnly. "They'd destroy the world."

**ooo**

By the time he came back she'd changed clothes twice, strapped four more kunai to her person, and given up pacing for sitting on her counter, wondering if being a bundle of nerves would make her more or less attractive to him. She nibbled her lip as Gaara came back through the door, trying to think of any kind of conversation-starter, and finally went with the idea that'd been occupying her mind since he left.

"So . . ." she said, as he set down a box of materials. "You're back to learn something else?"

"I thought we were supposed to be fixing the window." The corners of his mouth turned up with a smile that sent a little thrill down her spine as he stalked closer. "But if you insist . . ."

Her palm against his chest stopped him in his tracks and she looked him in the eye, concentrating on sounding appropriately threatening. "One thing—if you don't watch where you put your hands, I'll break them off."

Gaara set his hands against her waist, his appreciative smile finally reaching his eyes as he pulled her closer. "All right."

This was certainly the least sensible thing she'd done in years . . . and she couldn't care less.

Eventually they untangled themselves from each other in order to start the repair—and ended up starting mock squabbles over anything in order to go back to rolling around. Gaara pinned her to the wall, cupping her face firmly in his hands as he kissed her so ferociously her lips felt tender and swollen afterwards. She retaliated by pinning him to the floor, holding him still with one hand in his hair and brushing tiny, light kisses against his lips and cheeks until he squirmed and snarled with frustration. Sakura shrieked and coiled around him when he inevitably broke free and flipped their positions . . . and when he began bending her only rule by snugging her thigh closer to his side, she decided she didn't feel like hurting him too badly just yet.

"Careful," she told him, but the warning came out a whisper.

"Yeah," he replied from just over her face, and she laughed.

"No, really. You can't fix things without hands."

"I can do _anything," _he said, gloriously arrogant—and as he bent back down to her, she realized she might just believe him.

The day was turning out to be strangely educational. Thus far she'd learned lots of things about Gaara: that his brother thought he liked Naruto, that he got turned on by violence, that he knew what was necessary to fix a broken window . . . and that he really, _really_ liked kisses.

And—well, _she _really, really liked kisses too. His kisses. Between the two of them, she decided, they might need to start planning weekend adventures.

Two and a half hours into what should've been less than a one-hour repair, Naruto and Lee knocked on her door. She opened it to find them shoulder to shoulder, scowling about as ferociously as kicked puppies.

"You're doing it wrong," Naruto told her sullenly. Beside him, Lee's "scowl" shifted to an outright pout.

"Doing what wrong?"

"Everything," he said. "He's even wrong."

She shot a quizzical look over her shoulder at Gaara, who blinked back at her with something frighteningly close to wide-eyed innocence. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"Sure there is!" Naruto returned. "First, he's too short."

"He's a good height," she said. Being eye to eye with him made for much easier kissing, which was a huge plus in her book.

"No way! He's supposed to be, like, head and shoulders taller than you! See?"

He made as if to turn the book towards her, she made a move to the kunai at her hip, and he snatched his hands away.

"And he's too skinny," Lee said. "The guys are supposed to be built, and huge. I don't think he's huge."

"He's a good size," she said dismissively, then took another second to glance over at Gaara again and congratulate herself on her choices. But in the meantime Naruto and Lee froze, faces crumpling in dismay.

"What?" Sakura glared, for about the fiftieth time that day. Just because short, pale, and skinny wasn't the popular ideal didn't mean Naruto and Lee had _any_ more of a clue about their topic than they had a few hours before. "He doesn't _have_ to be huge. He's fine just the size he is. I don't get why you guys even care!"

Naruto finally closed his mouth. Then he opened it again and scarred her for life. "All that measuring, for nothing . . ."

And suddenly Gaara was at their sides, shoving them back out the door. "You should go."

Sakura paused, confused, as part of her brain tried to insist she hadn't really heard what she thought she'd heard. "Measuring what?"

"But I thought girls always said that bigger is better," Lee whimpered, his eyes teary-bright.

"Maybe," Gaara told him. "As long as the corollary is that _I'm_ better."

Everything clicked in her brain as all the horrible pieces fell into place, and her volume rose exponentially. "Measuring _what?"_

"Right now it's not in your best interests to stick around," Gaara said, and gave his comrades one final, not unkind shove.

"Wait!" she shouted. "I—"

But the door'd been closed, and Gaara leaned back against it, grinning in a wholeheartedly creepy manner.

"But . . ." Sakura trailed off, then shook her head. She knew where Tsunade's sake stash was, and she might now be obligated to raid it. "You . . . you what?"

He grinned wider. "I like you."

"Because I'm violent," she growled.

"You just figured that out?"

Tsunade'd also taught her to worry most about the closest target instead of the ones running away. "If you don't watch it," she said, "you're going back out the window."

He smirked.

Sakura rubbed her temples and hoped upon hope that his answer wouldn't alter her worldview too, too terribly. "One more time . . . Measuring what?"

"Shoulders." Gaara glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes, lips quirking mischievously. "And hands, and feet, and noses . . ."

She leaned back against the counter, covering her face with her hands. "I knew I shouldn't have asked."

"Yet you did." He took a couple steps towards the finished window, made a neat pile of their tools, and headed back towards her. "I didn't tell them, anyway."

And she needed to stop thinking about his anatomy. Right now.

Okay, maybe later.

Gaara stopped in front of her, considering. "I did always get the impression that I'm supposed to buy you dinner sometime before . . . all this, as well."

"You can still do that," she smiled, and felt her shoulders relax a little at the normalcy of his suggestion.

He didn't back away. She shifted, only a little nervously. "So, um . . ."

"Um," he repeated, and leaned a little closer.

The tools and her remaining dishes were safely to the side, the floor was clear if that's where they ended up again, and . . . "I think I'm hungry."

"Me too," he said—and that easily, they had a new direction.

**ooo**

Twin studies of misery, Naruto and Lee leaned against the stone ledge of the bridge and stared into the water below. "This isn't good," Lee said.

"Not at all." Naruto gestured jerkily. "They can't be doing it right. All our sources say practically the same thing, and they're not matching up . . . So it has to be wrong somehow!"

"But if they just messed up a step," Lee said, "and everything else goes like normal . . . Imagine their kids."

Naruto imagined a mushroom cloud. A sandy one.

He cringed. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I know_._" Lee turned to him, his round eyes glinting with determination. "We've got to save the world."


	4. Not Learning By Example

Dinner, she found, wasn't nearly as stressful as it could've been. Being in public meant Gaara would keep a proper distance—and, importantly, that she could ask questions without being too distracted.

"I'm okay for the rest of the day now," he told her. "My siblings know where I am, my meetings are taken care of—"

"Temari and Kankurou are okay with everything?" The last thing she needed was his siblings making a human wishbone of her for molesting their little brother.

"They are. Temari even said she figured if I finally did pick a girl, it would be you." His forehead wrinkled as he frowned and tapped an index finger against the ramen shop's counter. "Apparently I've been inordinately attentive."

And now her curiosity was piqued. "Why _did_ you pick me?"

"Because you're smart, and fun when you're angry. Because if I did something wrong, you wouldn't be afraid to let me know," he said. "And because you're interesting. And not crazy."

"Tired of dealing with crazy kunoichi who like you?"

Gaara—_Gaara_—practically cringed.

"Yikes," she breathed.

**ooo**

"We need a plan," said Naruto.

"He's doing it right after all," Lee said, thumbing through their book—which by this point looked somewhat worse for the wear. "He's just got the order all mixed up."

"Well, how do we stop it?"

"I don't know." Lee frowned at the pages. "We could tell her he's already married—but then when she found out he wasn't it'd all be over."

Naruto set his chin on his clenched fists and glowered. "There _has_ to be a better way."

**ooo**

"And they won't leave you alone?"

"No."

"And they don't listen to reason?"

"Tried," he said. "I've told them. They come back."

Sakura tried to think of something that would frighten away an annoying suitor. "And you can't hit them?"

"No."

"Ever told them you like men?"

"Once. Only she liked that."

"Did you . . . try picking up a gross habit? At least around them?"

Gaara thought about that one for a few seconds. "That sounds like it could backfire really easily."

"Good point." And sure, it was baiting—but who cared. "Well, at least now you can go back and tell them you've got a girl in Leaf, right?"

"A _mean_ one. One who put me through a wall and lived to tell the tale." He brightened, his spine straightening as he thought her words through, and she squeezed his arm happily.

Wait—this meant the next time she went to Sand, she'd find parents telling stories of her to their kids at night to scare them. _"If you're bad, the Sakura'll get you—and bite off your head!"_

Crap.

**ooo**

"Damn it," Naruto swore. "He got the sympathy angle."

"We're screwed," Lee moaned. "He'll practically be able to get her to do anything now."

Naruto cocked his head and studied the pair. "Even that thing with the recorder and two chairs and—"

"No," Lee said, cutting him off. "I doubt it."

Naruto watched a little longer. It wasn't like Gaara was even _doing_ anything. The two had finished their meal and were just walking, side by side. Granted, they didn't seem able to not look at each other for very long—but seriously? Was this the technique he had to beat?

"I know!" he declared. "We can out-romance him!"

Lee had found one of his favorite scenes, though, where the guy had proved his strength of mind and body (by saving a desperate herd of bunnies from running off a cliff) and was about to accept his just reward from the girl—and her two sisters. The blond glared; Lee hadn't even heard a word he'd said.

"Hey!" Naruto elbowed him.

"I was listening!" Lee tried, though his cheeks colored guiltily.

"What's he done? What makes him so great? He's broken some stuff and pissed her off. We can do better than that, right? Huh?"

Lee squared his shoulders, his chin lifting. "Of course we can!"

"Well, let's get to work!"

**ooo**

As they approached her door again, Sakura took a deep breath and decided to lay down another boundary. "I don't want to be rude, Gaara, but . . . I hope you don't think you're spending the night."

"Are you saying that because you don't want me to, or because you worry about what other people would think if you wanted me to?"

She shouldn't have to think about this . . . but found herself stuck on the question anyway.

At least, until Lee stepped out of the shadows and pointed at her companion. "Gaara of the Desert! I challenge you to a duel for the hand of our dearest Sakura!"

Gaara looked at the green-clad ninja, then back at her, as calmly as if crazy shinobi in spandex challenged him to duels every day.

"This is not just for the love of this most beautiful flower—this is for the fate of the earth! We will put a stop to your wooings, Gaara, in order to defend the world as we know it!" His fist raised to the sky, the other cocked at his hip, and his chest swelled to an almost worrisome level.

She stared blankly; Gaara watched patiently. After a few seconds, Lee's air ran out and he wheezed, deflating to a more reasonable size.

"Lee," Sakura finally said. "Why are you doing this?"

He blinked at her, confused. "Because it's romantic."

"Go on," Gaara said, and gave her a nudge towards the door. "I'll deal with him."

"I can deal with him." Oh, she'd _deal_ with him all right.

"But if you're out here, you'll just be encouraging him."

That sounded reasonable. But . . . "Don't kill him," she warned.

"I won't."

"I mean it."

Gaara looked back over his shoulder exasperatedly. "I _like_ Lee."

"Okay," she sighed, and closed the door behind her. Outside, she heard a thump, a yelp, and then, quietly, something like conversation.

It was a very, very strange day when she relied on _Gaara_ to talk sense into anyone. She got the feeling Ino wouldn't believe a single word of this story.

Wait . . . Lee'd said "we" needed to put a stop to things.

Where the hell was Naruto?

Not in the kitchen. Not in the living area; not lurking behind the shower curtain in her bathroom. That left one place.

She opened her bedroom door to find her shirtless teammate in her bed with the blankets pulled up to his waist, spitting all over her comforter. "Sthupid fthucking rose sthabbed me in the tongue—"

"What the hell?!"

"Hi, Sakura!" he called—and moved just enough for her to see that he wasn't just shirtless, he was naked. "I brought you a fthlower."

Sakura closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

"How about this for romansthe, huh?"

It didn't work. She took another.

"Sakura-chan? You okay?" He started to stand, holding her pillow—_her __**pillow**_—in front of himself.

That didn't work either.

She took one more breath, held it for a second—and then screamed at the top of her lungs.

Gaara caught her as she turned to run, sand spreading defensively behind him. "What's . . ." Then he took a look past her and into her room. "What?"

"I'm gonna kill him and if I kill him I'll have to look at him and I don't want to look at him so I need you to kill him for me."

"I really like her," Gaara said, and cuddled her face against his shoulder.

"Calm down, Sakura-chan," Naruto said from somewhere behind her. "It's not like he's gonna—Hey!"

"Move faster," Gaara told him.

"I can't find my pants—Ack! Get that away from me!"

Certain that anything she would see would just scar her further, Sakura closed her eyes tighter and tried to not listen.

"It was supposed to be romantic!"

"I think you need to be on slightly different terms to pull that technique off," Gaara replied dryly.

"Damn it," she wailed. "I need to burn my blankets. And my sheets. And my bed. And _definitely_ my pillow."

"That's a little much," he told her.

"I still can't find my pants . . ." came Naruto's voice.

"I'll bring them to you later," Gaara told him. Sakura gritted her teeth and refused to look up.

Her door closed with a light thud and a click, and Gaara squeezed her. "I like you people," he said, almost happily. "You make me feel normal."

"I need matches—"

"You need a washing machine."

"And a drink."

"And maybe a drink," he agreed.

After a little while, she could rationally agree that washing her bedding would be easier, less expensive, and less alarming to the neighbors than burning it. The laundry room in her building's basement was empty of people, leaving her to sigh and shake her head and mutter with only Gaara as an audience.

Naruto. Naked. Naked Naruto. Naked Naruto in her room.

Sometimes the world just seemed staggeringly unfair.

"So," Gaara asked her, as they stuffed her bedding into the washing machine. "What did Lee and Naruto do that didn't work?"

"Where should I start?" she grumbled sarcastically.

"Wherever," he replied mildly.

Sakura shook her head, then grinned. "Need to analyze strategy weaknesses?"

"Yes." He leaned against the machine as she poured way too much detergent. "Though I got some of them. Nudity without warning—"

"Yeeeeeah," she shuddered.

"Thinking a girl would be impressed by fighting instead of letting her choose for herself?"

"Definitely."

"Posing."

"_Hell_ yeah."

In retrospect, though, it all seemed kind of funny.

"Destroying a girl's house?"

She smiled despite herself, turning dials on the machine and feeling a little disappointed that there wasn't a setting for "boil." "Not your best moment—but it could've been worse, right?"

"Wrestling?"

"Nice."

"Fixing things?" He boxed her in with a hand to either side, looming as best he could.

"Helpful," she grinned up at him, and ran her hands up his arms. "And . . . endearing. Even if it _was_ your fault."

He leaned a little closer, and she tried to figure out how she'd explain _that_ to him—that her anticipation of his movements made things so much more fascinating; that the promise of contact and kisses whet her appetite for them almost as much as receiving them. "What else?"

Reasons for his little informational gathering spree sprung to mind, and she turned her head so he nuzzled her cheek instead of her lips. "Why do you ask? So you can go back and test this out on the girls at Sand, or Stone, or—?"

"Why would I want to do that?" And that quickly, he was back to arrogant, drawing her to him for an embrace and tilting her face up so she'd look him in the eye. "I've got more than enough research to do right here."


End file.
